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Kipling, Rudyard, 1865-1936

"From Mine Own People"

It took unto itself wings. I think an enterprising tradesman got some
of it, and a shroff gobbled the rest--or else I spent it.
Curtiss. Gadsby never had dealings with a shroff in his life.
Doone. Virtuous Gadsby! If I had three thousand a month, paid from England, I
don't think I'd deal with a shroff either.
Mackesy. (Yawning.) Oh, it's a sweet life! I wonder whether matrimony would
make it sweeter.
Curtiss. Ask Cockley--with his wife dying by inches!
Blayne. Go home and get a fool of a girl to come out to--what is it Thackeray
says?--"the splendid palace of an Indian pro-consul."
Doone. Which reminds me. My quarters leak like a sieve. I had fever last night
from sleeping in a swamp. And the worst of it is, one can't do anything to a
roof till the Rains are over.
Curtiss. What's wrong with you? You haven't eighty rotting Tommies to take into
a running stream.
Doone. No: but I'm mixed boils and bad language. I'm a regular Job all over my
body. It's sheer poverty of blood, and I don't see any chance of getting
richer--either way.
Blayne. Can't you take leave?
Doone. That's the pull you Army men have over us. Ten days are nothing in your
sight. I'm so important that Government can't find a substitute if I go away.


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